Just Wanna Hold Your Hand
by Mustard Yellow Sunshine
Summary: Inuyasha had never faced a challenge like this one. Nothing else he'd ever come up against compared to the sheer heart-pounding terror of the task ahead of him. He was going to try holding Kagome's hand.


Inuyasha had never faced a challenge like this one. Nothing else he'd ever come up against—surviving childhood, fighting bloodthirsty demons out to skin hanyō hide, enduring ubiquitous contempt and ostracization from both humans and demons, being pinned to a damned tree for 50 years—none of it compared to the sheer heart-pounding terror of the task ahead of him.

He was going to try holding Kagome's hand.

Frowning and shooting a covert look at the girl in question, he corrected himself: he _was_ going to hold Kagome's hand. He _was_. There would be no _try_ about it.

She stood near Kaede's hut, shouldering her yellow backpack and chatting inanely with Sango, who had just finished sharpening her weapons and was now beginning to pack them away. It was obvious even from a distance that Sango was only half-listening as she ran a critical eye over Hiraikotsu, checking for nicks and dents. Miroku was off doing only the gods knew what—probably trying to cop a feel from some unsuspecting village girl before facing the forced celibacy of the road—and Shippō was helping Kaede gather medicinal herbs. They were leaving that day for a long shard-hunting expedition, making their last-minute checks on supplies and gear.

This was his moment, he decided. Before they set off, he'd go up to Kagome, take her hand, and just start walking. Smooth and casual-like. Natural. No big deal.

He swallowed hard, gaze zeroing in on Kagome's hand where it gripped the strap of her backpack.

It really _wasn't_ a big deal. It was just a hand. A slender, feminine, _pretty_ hand, but... She'd held his hand before! If she could do it, so could he! No human girl was going to best _him_.

Throwing back his shoulders and lifting his chin, Inuyasha strode toward Kagome with all the determination he usually felt when heading into battle.

 _Just gotta go up there and grab her hand._

As he drew closer, Sango and Kagome both turned towards him.

 _Just gotta grab it and start walking._

Kagome smiled warmly at him. "Inuyasha! We're just finishing up. You about ready to go?"

His eyes lingered for a moment on her smile, but he didn't otherwise let it distract him. He came to a stop directly in front of her, and his heart nearly skipped a beat when her hand dropped from the strap at her shoulder to hang limply at her side. Ripe for the holding.

"Inuyasha?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, confusion playing across her features as he stood woodenly in front of her, staring.

 _All you gotta do is slip your hand in hers._

He reached out, fingers tense as his hand neared its target—

 _Almost there. Just wrap your fingers around hers._

The grey of Kagome's eyes was so bright in the sunlight, and her hand looked so soft—

 _Almost there..._

The tip of his forefinger just barely skimmed the back of her hand—and then it was veering sharply away as if burned, hand shooting up to grip her elbow instead.

And he just stood there like an idiot, holding her _elbow_ , staring at her.

Now she looked _really_ confused. "Inuyasha, what—?"

Hoping his face didn't look as hot as it felt, he turned his head aside with a scowl and said, "Keh! You all are so slow. At this rate we won't get out of here before nightfall." Giving her arm a solid tug, he swung her around and pulled her onto his back. With a little "eep!" of surprise, she reflexively looped her arms around his shoulders and gripped his waist with her knees. "Let's get a move on, already."

Without another word, he took off sprinting towards the road. But Sango's distant hollering and the pound of his feet hitting the ground couldn't drown out the niggling whisper in his head.

 _Fuck!_

 _::_

* * *

 _::_

It's not as if he'd really _wanted_ to hold her hand right then, anyway. It just wasn't the right time. Sango had been standing there, and they were busy getting their gear together, and they still had to track down the pervert and the fox kit, and who knew how long that would take, and it just didn't make sense to do it right then.

It's not like he'd chickened out or anything.

Suppressing another scowl, Inuyasha threw a glance at Kagome where she sat opposite him at the campfire. They'd just stopped to rest and eat their midday meal. Sango and Kirara were making a quick sweep of the area—checking for any nearby threats—Miroku had wandered off after saying something about "heeding nature's call," and Kagome was smiling gently at a happily-playing Shippō as she stirred a pot of soup heating over the campfire. His eyes narrowed at the delicate hand holding the spoon, glaring at it in challenge.

He was going to hold that hand if it was the last thing he did, dammit!

Standing swiftly, before he could talk himself out of it, Inuyasha stalked over to her side of the campfire. Kagome looked at him inquisitively as he dropped into a crouch next to her. "The soup isn't ready yet, Inuyasha."

He grunted, eyes darting between her face and the hand still stirring the soup.

She heaved a sigh, no doubt interpreting his behavior as impatience for food, but couldn't keep herself from grinning. "You'll be the first to know when it's done, I promise."

"Keh! Whatever."

Now was the perfect moment. Sango and Miroku were gone, Shippō was distracted. It was just him and Kagome, alone by the fire.

Feeling an unexpected surge of confidence, Inuyasha said, "Food's ready _now_ , woman. I'll show you." He reached out for her hand, triumphant visions flashing through his mind at lightning speed: of himself enfolding Kagome's hand within his own and gently guiding the spoon to his lips, of sipping from it slowly while staring deeply into her eyes, of the pretty blush on her face as she stared back. The skin of his palm warmed in anticipation, his eyes locking with hers as his hand—

—wrapped around a thick ball of fur.

Swallowing a startled squawk, Inuyasha yanked his hand away and whipped his head around to find Shippō perched atop Kagome's hand. His little paws straddled her wrist, tiny chin propped on his fist as he peered down into the soup pot. "The food sure doesn't look ready," he said in dejection, either unaware or uncaring that Inuyasha had just grabbed a handful of his fox tail. "I'm so hungry! Why'd you get my hopes up like that?"

That damn. Stupid. _Runt_.

Inuyasha could feel the angry spasm in his eyelid as he snatched Shippō up by the back of his clothes and lifted the damn brat up to eye-level.

"What's your problem?" the runt said with a casual, almost perfunctory tone of annoyance.

Arching an eyebrow, Inuyasha smirked with all the menace he presently felt for the kid with the _worst timing in the whole damn world_. "Nothin'. Just keepin' the pests away from the food."

And with that he pulled his arm back and hurled the kit into the air. He went soaring with a squeal (and a trailing wail of "You jerk!") into the trees.

"Inu _yasha_! What is _wrong_ with you?!"

Darting a look at Kagome—who had surged to her feet, fists propped on her hips, green skirt almost crackling in her anger as she leveled an impressive glare his way—Inuyasha made a snap decision.

This was not a battle he could win.

For the second time that day, he made a hasty retreat, Kagome's shouts growing distant within moments as he hurtled away through the trees. And once again, the mocking whisper in his head piped up.

 _Looks like a human girl_ can _best you._

 _::_

* * *

 _::_

Sango and Miroku were mystified by the charged atmosphere around the campfire when they returned. Both Kagome and an oddly rumpled-looking Shippō were obviously aggravated, and Inuyasha was nowhere to be seen. Neither the demon slayer nor the monk said anything about it, however, merely sharing a meaningful glance between them and settling down to lunch.

Finally, after Inuyasha came slinking back (pointedly ignored by Kagome and Shippō) and their meal was done, they resumed travel. It took at least an hour for Kagome's tetchiness to cool, and even longer for Shippō to stop glaring death at Inuyasha. He pretended not to notice, walking several yards ahead of the others, his ears periodically canting back to monitor the goings on behind him.

Half his brain was alert to his surroundings, prepared to jump into action at the merest intimation of a threat; the other half was plotting the best way to achieve hand-lock with Kagome.

 _I could pretend to trip, and she'd rush over to help me up, and I could just keep hold'a her hand… Nah, I'd get dealt a load of shit from the brat for tripping over nothing... Or I could offer to take her backpack and just grab her hand after she hands it over…_

His opportunity came sooner than he expected. He heard a telltale slap and an outraged "Miroku!" He didn't need to look behind him to know what had happened, but he did anyway. Sango and Miroku had fallen a little behind the rest of them, Sango gripping the strap of Hiraikotsu in obvious threat, Miroku grinning like an idiot while one hand cradled his cheek and the other waved a placating gesture. Kagome—Shippō perched on her shoulder—simply heaved a sigh and kept walking. If they stopped every time Miroku groped or otherwise made a move on Sango, they'd never get anywhere. Even the couple in question was still walking, albeit slowly, as the familiar argument played out.

But Inuyasha's real luck came when Shippō, either bored of Kagome's silence or interested in egging on Sango's wrath, hopped off Kagome's shoulder and skittered back to the other couple, finding a new perch on Miroku's head.

Now Kagome was walking all alone.

Sucking in a breath, Inuyasha instantly slowed his pace so the girl could easily catch up with him. Soon she came up on his right and they were side by side, only a couple feet apart.

Kagome peeked over at him, the corner of her mouth twitching ever so slightly. It surprised him—and made him a little wary—given how she'd been emphatically ignoring him since the throwing-Shippō-into-the-woods incident. Was that an amused lip-twitch, or an "I'm _this_ close to using _the word_ " lip-twitch? Then, with a quick jerk of her chin, she motioned her head over her shoulder towards the couple trailing behind them and rolled her eyes, mouth stretching into a full-blown grin. Instantly relaxed by that smile, Inuyasha snorted and grinned back. Arching a sardonic eyebrow, he muttered, "At least we know the pervert's alive," and his nerves faded away completely when she ducked her head and giggled. It was incredible how the very same girl could put him so on edge and so at ease, usually at the same time.

They kept walking, occasionally sneaking glances and making faces at each other. After she stuck her tongue out at him for the third time, forcing him to turn his head away to muffle a laugh against his shoulder, Inuyasha had no doubts. This was the moment. And he found that this time, it was easy. No nervous energy or anxiety plagued him—Kagome's scent and nearness left no room for either. Eyes on the path ahead, he deliberately reached over for her hand.

And met nothing but air.

He stopped and looked to his right. No Kagome. He turned on his heel to look behind him.

She was kneeling down on the path, tying her shoe.

For a second, all he could feel was the overwhelming temptation to toss that shoe into the woods, too.

He was still standing there when she finished knotting her shoelaces and stood up. Surprise flashed across her face when she saw him watching her, but then she laughed, "Good thing I caught that before I face-planted, huh? Thanks for waiting for me. You didn't have to."

A muscle in his jaw spasmed. His eyebrow twitched. "This—you—" He sputtered for another moment before throwing his hands up and growling, "This is un- _fucking_ -believable!"

Pivoting back around, he started stomping his way up the path.

"Inuyasha?" her voice drifted to him, sounding completely nonplussed. He heard her feet shuffling to catch up with him, and he increased his speed. "What's the matter?" she called.

Clenching his teeth, he snarled over his shoulder, "Nothing!" He could practically _feel_ her mouth opening for another question, so he barked, "I'm scouting ahead! Stay with the others!"

He sprinted up the path, muttering darkly the whole way.

::

* * *

::

By the time they stopped to set up camp that night, Inuyasha had just about _had it_. After another failed attempt that afternoon (how could she _possibly_ have needed to sneeze _right then_?!), he'd retreated to the treetops, shadowing his friends from above and forcing himself to focus on his surroundings and nothing else.

It hadn't worked, but he'd _tried_.

Now they were setting up camp in a little clearing they'd found close to a stream. Sango was sitting beside Miroku, skinning and cleaning a couple rabbits, while the monk worked on building up the campfire. The two were speaking quietly together, a gentle background murmur in Inuyasha's ears. He didn't know or particularly care what Shippō was up to, but he could smell and hear the little brat off by the stream with Kirara.

He stood by himself, watching Kagome as she laid down bedding for the others, followed by her own sleeping bag. When that was done, she started rifling through her backpack, searching for who the hell knew what modern weirdity she thought she needed. He tried not to—tried to distract himself by taking a few deep breaths and scenting the air around him, making sure they were secure—but he couldn't help focusing on the slender hand gripping the open edge of the backpack while the other dug around in its overcrowded depths.

His first impulse was to try, one last time, to take hold of that hand. His second impulse was to scoff at his own idiocy and remind that stupid first impulse how spectacularly he'd been failing all day.

But Inuyasha had never been a person to second-guess his impulses. So he listened to the first one.

He approached Kagome slowly but purposefully. She didn't stop her rummaging when he hunkered down next to her, but he knew she was aware of him. He waited patiently while she searched for whatever knick-knack she wanted. After another moment or two, she sighed at the bag in exasperation, then shifted her focus to him. "What's up?" she asked, giving him the same little head-tilt she had that morning.

He found the motion irritatingly endearing, and nearly lost his nerve. He coughed, then cleared his throat, then grunted. She raised her eyebrows in obvious question.

Instead of answering her—he had no idea what he should say, anyway—he reached his right hand toward her left, the one still resting at the open edge of her backpack. The action couldn't have taken more than a second, but time seemed to slow to a crawl, his hand nearing her own with unbearable sluggishness.

When his hand was finally hovering just over hers, it stopped. Halted its course, frozen and immovable in the air just inches away from her skin.

His eyes darted back to hers. She watched his hovering hand with confusion, tilting her head at it as though uncertain of what she was seeing. Then she slowly turned her face back to his and met his eyes.

 _Just do it, you idiot! Just move your hand! You're practically there!_

But he couldn't. The cosmic forces of the universe had finally stopped fucking with him—had finally given him his chance to hold Kagome's hand without ridiculous interruption—and he couldn't move his goddamn hand another inch.

The longer his hand hovered there, and the longer Kagome stared at him, panic began welling up in his chest, rising in his throat, an almost physical force cutting off his breath. He opened his mouth to say something— _anything_ —but couldn't get a single word past the panic blocking his lungs. His body tensed against the impulse to flee.

And then he felt warm, delicate fingers sliding between his own. A soft palm rested against his.

He ripped his gaze from her face—when had she started smiling? She'd been confused just a minute ago—and looked at their suddenly-joined hands. The hand that had been resting on her backpack was now holding onto his hand where it hovered in the air. Her fingers were threaded through his, the heel of her smaller palm pressed flat against the center of his larger one.

His eyes flew back to her face in disbelief. Some of her hair had fallen around her face, framing it with inky black. A soft flush had warmed the skin of her cheeks, and she was still smiling at him, beautiful and bright.

"Is that what you've been trying to do all day?" she asked quietly.

He could only nod dumbly.

She ducked her head a little in embarrassment—though he was sure he caught a flash of pleasure, too—eyes drifting back to their locked hands. "That explains a lot of your behavior today." Her smile grew wider, and her teeth caught at her lower lip. She looked ready to giggle at any second.

Jolted, he narrowed his eyes at her and squeezed her hand, clasping it more firmly with his fingers. "O-oi. Are you laughing at me?"

She bit her lip even harder, but shook her head in the negative. He raised an eyebrow and squeezed her hand again. She laughed softly, grey eyes returning to his. The sound dislodged the last remnants of panic blocking his throat, and suddenly he could breathe again. His muscles relaxed, body losing its tension. He felt very warm.

And then it hit him. He'd done it. He was holding her hand. Hell, _she'd_ held _his_ hand, but he didn't give a rat's ass who'd initiated it or how it had been accomplished—all that mattered was her hand in his, warm and soft and holding on tight.

Slowly, not out of caution but purely to relish the motion, he stroked his thumb along the back of her hand. She blushed prettily, eyes widening and eyelashes fluttering just a little. A tiny smile—not a grin, not a smirk, but a genuine smile—pulled at his lips, and he did it again, running his thumb along her knuckles. In return, he felt her pinky finger give a tiny caress to the heel of his palm. He felt his own face warm, and her smile seemed to brighten.

If the others noticed how long they sat there, holding hands and trading little caresses, they didn't say anything about it. And if the monk and demon-slayer exchanged any knowing smiles or significant glances, the hanyō and the schoolgirl paid them no mind. Nor did anyone react when, as they set off the next morning, Inuyasha marched up to a smiling, blushing Kagome and grabbed her hand; they continued to not react—even Shippō keeping any comments to himself—when Inuyasha and Kagome continued to hold hands the rest of the day, sharing secret smiles and hidden touches.

Inuyasha, for his part, had decided on two things. Holding Kagome's hand had been worth all that effort; and he'd gladly let _this_ human girl best him.

::

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 **A/N:** This story is a belated birthday present for my dear friend, GrapefruitWannabe. She sent me a list of prompts, and the one that inspired this little oneshot was "InuKag hand holding." Love you, girl! Hope you enjoy your gift.


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